


Christmas Songs

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is So Done with Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Whipped (Good Omens), Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27842884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: the promt was "Christmas Music", which Aziraphale puts on while he decorates the bookshop... at least until a certain demon decides to get up to mischief.With thanks to Inkibus for the bastardised song lyrics.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 86
Collections: Ineffable Husbands Advent Challenge 2020





	Christmas Songs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katzedecimal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/gifts).



Aziraphale hefted another box of decorations up from the cellar and placed it with the others on the floor in the centre of the shop. Next he lit a little frankincense in a burner for the ambience, and waved at the gramophone, instructing it to play some christmas music.  
  
He couldn’t be bothered with changing records, so he simply expected the ancient gramophone to behave more like the mp3 player in Crowley’s flat and play a selection of what he wanted it to play, and so it did. Crowley forebore to comment on the fact that while the angel was content to miracle his selected music into being, he still chose to hang the decorations by hand rather than simply miracling the perfect display up. 

A trail of pine needles across the floor was testament to the dedication Aziraphale put into doing things properly, and the tree was now sitting to one side, ready to be moved into pride of place in the middle of the shop under the cupola shortly to be decorated. Crowley glared at it and DARED it to drop another, single needle on the floor. It didn’t. (Until a few weeks later when it was finally dropped off at the composting site, when it spontaneously shed every single needle at once in relief.) 

Crowley, lounged back on the sofa, smirked as he admired Aziraphale’s backside while he bent over fishing handfuls of tinsel from one of the boxes. While the angel wasn’t looking, the demon waved at the gramophone with a glint in his eye. 

It took a little while before Aziraphale noticed what was going on. The songs were warping ever so slightly, and the odd word was changing from the familiar lyrics. 

_“Oh it's lovely weather to be whipped in leather with you.”_

_“Deck my balls with boughs of holly”_

_“Later on, we'll perspire and we fuck by the fire…”_

He paused, standing on a ladder as he hung a shiny garland from the mezzanine, and levelled a sharp look at the demon, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Crowley…?”

“Hmmmm?” Crowley continued scrolling on his phone, trying not to smile. 

“I do believe that these songs didn’t sound _quite_ like this when originally recorded…”

“Like what?”

 _“Crowley…”_ Aziraphale growled, but also trying not to smile. 

“Haven’t noticed anything unusual.”

“They are rather more… lewd… than usual.”

Crowley shrugged, still fighting to stop the slight smirk at the corner of his lips from spreading into a full-on grin with a side order of cackling laughter. Aziraphale got down from the ladder and stepped closer, draping a length of red tinsel around Crowley’s neck. He used the tinsel to tug Crowley closer, while he knelt one knee on the edge of the sofa, between those lean thighs. 

Crowley let his phone drop on the cushions as he found his face held close to Aizraphale’s. He swallowed nervously. Aziraphale leaned in close and whispered in his ear. 

“Provided that you come and help me deck my halls with boughs of holly, then perhaps, _once_ we are _quite_ finished, _then_ we might perspire and fuck by the fire.... Well, the radiator anyway, as there is no fire.”

Crowley gulped, wide eyed. Then something went a little strange with time. 

Aziraphale heard a snap and suddenly fell face forward onto the sofa which no longer contained a demon. He landed on a cushion and took a moment of flailing before he righted himself, and turned around to see the entire shop garlanded with glittering tinsel and baubles from every conceivable surface. Fairy lights festooned every bookshelf and the window surrounds, the tree was dragged to the centre of the room and decorated with military precision, each bauble colour-complementing the overall scheme and spaced at aesthetically pleasing intervals around it, with a gentle colour phasing fibre optic string of lights woven carefully up the trunk lighting it from within. 

Crowley sat on the floor, breathless, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, with bits of tinsel glittering in his hair like festive dandruff. He looked a bit sweaty already. The demon looked up hopefully with a tired grin. 

“This ok?”

“Crowley, did you just stop time so you could decorate this entire shop for me?”

Crowley shrugged, then nodded over to a mattress he’d dragged over by the big radiator under the window, which he’d surrounded with LED candles and covered with festively coloured silk sheets and pillows. His ipad was propped against the radiator playing a log fire animation on a loop. 

Aziraphale gave an exasperated, but fond sigh, and stepped over to lift Crowley up in his arms, then kissed him tenderly. “Whatever am I do with you, dear?” Crowley’s eyes flicked over to the makeshift “fuck by the fire” arrangement with a meaningful look. The angel laughed, then carried him over there and laid him down gently amidst the soft cushions. “Very well, you win. But from now on, no more tinkering with my gramophone, you fiend.”


End file.
